memlu
in
temps_mort
'One Scoop, Vanilla,' Death Note, G, Het, Matsuda/Misa
Title: One Scoop, Vanilla
Author: memlu
Fandom: Death Note
Type: Het
Pairing: Matsuda/Misa
Rating: G
Challenge: Past Challenges --> Random Pairing Challenge
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters contained within, and wish to say 'hi! sorry!' to those who do. Hi! sorry!
Notes: Because 'Misa-Misa' just screams nonsensical fluff.
One Scoop, Vanilla
"Ice cream," he said, and smiled with his mouth wide and tilted up. Matsuda set the pint down on the low-lying coffee table, still smiling, and brushed his hand hurriedly on his pants leg, wiping away the moisture. Misa lowered the fashion magazine she was flipping through, idly stretched out on her back along the couch. "Strawberry, right, Misa-Misa?" Matsuda asked, as she beamed and reached for the pint.
"Yes!" she cheered, and smiled, carefully, leaning over to pick off the top. She held the lid up, absently checking the side bar listing ingredients and calories, and tipped her small palm towards Matsuda. "Misa needs a spoon," she reminded him, giving him a certain look under her eyelashes - a pouty one, Matsuda realized as he flushed and grinned, waving his hand apologetically as he disappeared back to the kitchen area and retrieved a spoon.
"Matsuda is a lifesaver," Misa greeted him again, clapping her hands together and then dropping them between her knees as she smiled, pretty and fashionable and joking-solemn. "Misa won't ever forget how nice Matsuda is being!" She plucked the spoon from his hand, and he scratched at the side of his head, sheepish, as she (in as ladylike a manner as possible) buried the spoon in with admittedly adorable gusto.
Matsuda told himself he wasn't blushing with pleasure at all; it was just slightly hot. ...Ish. Of course.
"Isn't Misa-Misa on a diet?" he asked, taking a seat beside her and resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to look aside at her. Misa gave him another look. "Not," he added hastily, "that you need a diet. You're very pretty as always."
With great intended dignity, Misa lifted her nose fractionally and solemnly slipped the ice cream from the spoon into her mouth. "Ice cream," she said seriously, "is a very important thing that I will eat sparingly. Misa doesn't want to be only skin and bones." She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue to express the depths of her disgust in relation to the ice cream-less.
Matsuda laughed, as she had wanted, and then glanced at the wall, shuffling one of his feet slowly in a monotonous back-forth motion over the carpet. Misa, spoon firmly on her tongue, glanced at Matsuda. "Would Matsuda like some ice cream?" she asked, charmingly, tilting her head and smiling.
"What?" Matsuda started, then smiled. "No, it's all right, Misa-Misa. I like vanilla."
Misa made a face. "Misa doesn't like vanilla," she said. "Vanilla is plain."
Matsuda focused on the dull, scuffed corner of his shoe, still on the carpet. "Ah," he said.
Misa looked at him, and took another careful bite of the strawberry ice cream, tapping a well-manicured finger on the handle.
-
Matsuda spent the better part of an hour trying to ignore Yagami's aggravated chiding ("Misa-Misa! Stop with all these Misa-Misas, Matsuda!") while Raito looked on with an uninterested expression, and trying to decipher why, exactly, L kept giving him curious, vaguely amused looks. He ended his shift by heading home, miffed and oddly lonely, and discovered he had no vanilla ice cream in his refrigerator, but had a sizable amount of strawberry. It gave him great petty satisfaction throwing the strawberry ice cream into the garbage, sticky melting be damned.
-
"Misa-Misa!" he greeted the next day with the same cheerful smile he always wore around her. "Did you have a restful night?" He smoothed his hands nervously on his jacket, and took a casual, friendly seat in one of the few chairs in her room.
Misa curled up from lying outstretched on the floor, apparently having been daydreaming with her blonde hair tied up in an elaborate bun and her face devoid of any makeup. "Hello, Matsuda!" she said, and then uncurled, stretching back out on her belly with her hands folded and tucked under her chin. A popular magazine that Matsuda knew (from several runs to nearby newstands at Misa's request) to be filled with attractive well-dressed and frequently exotically made-up young men was opened before her.
"How are you today?" he attempted, smiling as he fanned his fingers out over his knees.
Misa looked over at him, kicking her feet in the air absently, and smiled brightly, showing off her pale teeth. "Wonderful!" she announced, and added in a conspiratorial whisper, "I have a date with Raito-kun tomorrow afternoon." She leaned back and looked deeply pleased with this fact.
Matsuda's shoulders drooped. "Ah, that's great, Misa-Misa!" he said, attempting a smile.
Misa beamed again.
He scratched at his head, looked discreetly at his still scuffed and desperately-needing-to-be-polished shoes as if in search of divine aid in the worn black leather, and then asked, thinking, "Would you like more strawberry ice cream, Misa-Misa?"
Misa looked up at him again, twirling her feet in small half-circles as she thought, twining a strand of her blonde hair around a finger. "Mmm," Misa said, thoughtfully, before smiling slyly at Matsuda, "Misa thinks she'd rather have vanilla today."
Matsuda tried not to fall over out of the chair, and failed.
-end-
Author: memlu
Fandom: Death Note
Type: Het
Pairing: Matsuda/Misa
Rating: G
Challenge: Past Challenges --> Random Pairing Challenge
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters contained within, and wish to say 'hi! sorry!' to those who do. Hi! sorry!
Notes: Because 'Misa-Misa' just screams nonsensical fluff.
One Scoop, Vanilla
"Ice cream," he said, and smiled with his mouth wide and tilted up. Matsuda set the pint down on the low-lying coffee table, still smiling, and brushed his hand hurriedly on his pants leg, wiping away the moisture. Misa lowered the fashion magazine she was flipping through, idly stretched out on her back along the couch. "Strawberry, right, Misa-Misa?" Matsuda asked, as she beamed and reached for the pint.
"Yes!" she cheered, and smiled, carefully, leaning over to pick off the top. She held the lid up, absently checking the side bar listing ingredients and calories, and tipped her small palm towards Matsuda. "Misa needs a spoon," she reminded him, giving him a certain look under her eyelashes - a pouty one, Matsuda realized as he flushed and grinned, waving his hand apologetically as he disappeared back to the kitchen area and retrieved a spoon.
"Matsuda is a lifesaver," Misa greeted him again, clapping her hands together and then dropping them between her knees as she smiled, pretty and fashionable and joking-solemn. "Misa won't ever forget how nice Matsuda is being!" She plucked the spoon from his hand, and he scratched at the side of his head, sheepish, as she (in as ladylike a manner as possible) buried the spoon in with admittedly adorable gusto.
Matsuda told himself he wasn't blushing with pleasure at all; it was just slightly hot. ...Ish. Of course.
"Isn't Misa-Misa on a diet?" he asked, taking a seat beside her and resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to look aside at her. Misa gave him another look. "Not," he added hastily, "that you need a diet. You're very pretty as always."
With great intended dignity, Misa lifted her nose fractionally and solemnly slipped the ice cream from the spoon into her mouth. "Ice cream," she said seriously, "is a very important thing that I will eat sparingly. Misa doesn't want to be only skin and bones." She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue to express the depths of her disgust in relation to the ice cream-less.
Matsuda laughed, as she had wanted, and then glanced at the wall, shuffling one of his feet slowly in a monotonous back-forth motion over the carpet. Misa, spoon firmly on her tongue, glanced at Matsuda. "Would Matsuda like some ice cream?" she asked, charmingly, tilting her head and smiling.
"What?" Matsuda started, then smiled. "No, it's all right, Misa-Misa. I like vanilla."
Misa made a face. "Misa doesn't like vanilla," she said. "Vanilla is plain."
Matsuda focused on the dull, scuffed corner of his shoe, still on the carpet. "Ah," he said.
Misa looked at him, and took another careful bite of the strawberry ice cream, tapping a well-manicured finger on the handle.
-
Matsuda spent the better part of an hour trying to ignore Yagami's aggravated chiding ("Misa-Misa! Stop with all these Misa-Misas, Matsuda!") while Raito looked on with an uninterested expression, and trying to decipher why, exactly, L kept giving him curious, vaguely amused looks. He ended his shift by heading home, miffed and oddly lonely, and discovered he had no vanilla ice cream in his refrigerator, but had a sizable amount of strawberry. It gave him great petty satisfaction throwing the strawberry ice cream into the garbage, sticky melting be damned.
-
"Misa-Misa!" he greeted the next day with the same cheerful smile he always wore around her. "Did you have a restful night?" He smoothed his hands nervously on his jacket, and took a casual, friendly seat in one of the few chairs in her room.
Misa curled up from lying outstretched on the floor, apparently having been daydreaming with her blonde hair tied up in an elaborate bun and her face devoid of any makeup. "Hello, Matsuda!" she said, and then uncurled, stretching back out on her belly with her hands folded and tucked under her chin. A popular magazine that Matsuda knew (from several runs to nearby newstands at Misa's request) to be filled with attractive well-dressed and frequently exotically made-up young men was opened before her.
"How are you today?" he attempted, smiling as he fanned his fingers out over his knees.
Misa looked over at him, kicking her feet in the air absently, and smiled brightly, showing off her pale teeth. "Wonderful!" she announced, and added in a conspiratorial whisper, "I have a date with Raito-kun tomorrow afternoon." She leaned back and looked deeply pleased with this fact.
Matsuda's shoulders drooped. "Ah, that's great, Misa-Misa!" he said, attempting a smile.
Misa beamed again.
He scratched at his head, looked discreetly at his still scuffed and desperately-needing-to-be-polished shoes as if in search of divine aid in the worn black leather, and then asked, thinking, "Would you like more strawberry ice cream, Misa-Misa?"
Misa looked up at him again, twirling her feet in small half-circles as she thought, twining a strand of her blonde hair around a finger. "Mmm," Misa said, thoughtfully, before smiling slyly at Matsuda, "Misa thinks she'd rather have vanilla today."
Matsuda tried not to fall over out of the chair, and failed.
-end-